


Totally Innocent

by tsukinofaerii



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barely Legal, Multi, Pegging, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Spitroast, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukinofaerii/pseuds/tsukinofaerii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Stiles' eighteenth birthday, and he has plans to celebrate it in style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Totally Innocent

**Author's Note:**

> With a great many thanks to akuneko42, who answered my cries for a beta. This was written for Stiles' birthday, which was apparently April 8th.

Slowly, cautiously, he crept along the shadowy corridor, eyes fixed on the sweet promise of freedom. His feet stayed close to the wall, avoiding the inevitable creaks of floorboards gone noisy with age. Just a few feet away the guard lounged, entirely unaware that his prisoner was about to slip his grasp. 

Step by painful step he edged closer, closer. The light of the fading day gleamed through the window, beckoning him along. _Almost... there..._ Reaching out, his fingertips grazed the doorknob and—

"Going somewhere, son?" 

Stiles yelped and spun around, flailing wildly. The heavy overnight bag on his shoulder smacked against the door with a guilty _thud_ , almost toppling him off balance with its sudden stop. It took a hard stagger to the left and a grab for the doorframe to keep from going over. 

His father didn't look impressed. In fact, he looked the opposite of impressed. It was actually kind of impressive how unimpressed he looked, with his arms crossed over his chest and his lips pressed together in a hard line. The uniform only made it worse; it was like being talked to by a _cop_ , and not just a dad. "Well?" 

"Um... Out?" Stiles tried hopefully. "It's a thing we adults do. Go out. You know, since I'm _eighteen_ and all, adult now, all grown up and... stuff."

"Stuff." Neither the lips nor the arms gave way. That was a bad sign. "You've only been eighteen for—"

"Exactly fourteen hours and twenty six minutes, Pacific Standard Time," Stiles put in helpfully. "At least, according to my birth certificate, and according to the _law_ it's been—"

" _Stiles_."

His mouth snapped shut. He knew that tone—it was the one that popped up when he was pushing his luck, and this was _so_ not the day to push his luck. Somehow, they'd managed to avoid a _my house, my rules_ situation for the previous eighteen years, and Stiles was really hoping to get through the end of senior year without breaking that record. 

Pointedly, his father patted the couch. Stiles clutched his bag to his chest as he slunk over to sit on the indicated ugly floral cushion. It was a relic of his mother and the late nineties, just like most of their furniture was. Usually Stiles liked it; it was ugly but soft, and the springs were so worn that he could just sink right in. Just then, he wished that he could sink right in and let the cushions _eat him_. 

_Should have packed the car earlier,_ Stiles thought to himself as some jock danced in to homeplate, then winced. _No, nope nope nope, bad idea._ His dad would have just started in on the questions earlier, before he had an excuse to escape. At least doing it now meant that he could run right out the door.

They sat in a squirm-inducing silence for a few minutes while the television played a few thousand baseball replays. It took the commercials starting for his father to finally clear his throat and say, "So." 

Helpful. Very helpful. "So...?" Stiles echoed, subtly glancing down at his watch. Ten minutes behind. Would they start without him? Without the birthday boy?

Who was he kidding? Of course they would. 

"So..." his dad started again. "When I found out that I have to take a shift tonight, I called Melissa. I thought maybe you and Scott could do something for the big one-eight." Stiles winced, while his father gave him a knowing look. "Imagine my surprise when I found out that you already had plans. _Without_ Scott. You two are doing something next week, he said."

 _Shit. Preemptive strike necessary._ Stiles lifted a placating hand, letting go of his bag in the process. "Now Dad, it's not what you think—"

"The _Hales_ , Stiles?"

"—or it's exactly what you think." His bag wobbled unsteadily on his knees; he shuffled them around to give it a flatter surface. "They're my friends, okay? They've been there for me, and they want to celebrate my birthday. This is the only night Derek can get off, and they're out of town for a thing next week."

There was a look on his father's face, one part confusion and one part annoyance, all articulated with pursed lips and pinched eyebrows. It was a look that said he didn't like anything about what he'd just heard, but he couldn't quite figure out what specifically he didn't like. Stiles counted its existence as a win. As long as there was some confusion, he had a chance.

Then the pursed lips got worse, turned into a frown. "I don't think you should be hanging out with people that much older than you. Laura's—what, twenty-three? And Derek's not much younger."

Wisdom kept Stiles from correcting his father up two years. That would have been the opposite of helpful. "They're my _friends_ , Dad. And I'm their friend." Taking a deep breath, Stiles leaned forward and aimed below the belt. "You know they don't have a lot of friends anymore."

He knew he'd landed a hit in the old soft spot when his dad's eyes went distant, and his frown turned a little less judgmental. Everyone knew about the Hale fire, but no one talked about it. At least, not openly. That many people dying at once was a big deal, especially for a small place like Beacon Hills. Eight years later and they still gossiped about it. 

But all the talk had made the only two survivors practically outcast, unless they wanted to deal with sympathy applied with a bulldozer. They didn't. The Hale siblings pulled together and pulled apart from everyone else. Once in a while, one of them was spotted in the grocery store and the gossip mill had fodder for a month. It was only sheer dumb luck that Stiles had gotten to know them.

Well, sheer dumb luck and rotting stairs. He still had scars.

Whatever complicated parental calculus was going his father's head finally reached the end point of the equation. "I don't want you drinking," he said. "And no smoking, either, I'll know if I smell it. I don't think I need to say no drugs." 

The knot of uncertainty that had been wrapping around Stiles' chest evaporated. Hurriedly, he lifted a hand and crossed his heart. "I do swear," he promised. "No booze, no smoke, no illegal substances. It'll be totally innocent."

* * *

Stiles' back hit the mattress about the same time his jeans hit the wall. "Totally innocent," Laura cackled, leaning over him with one knee on either side of his thighs. "Do you kiss him with that lying mouth?" 

"Look who's talking," Derek muttered, legs spread loose and easy so Stiles' head rested neatly between them. Stiles could have turned his head to kiss one dimpled knee. Both of the Hales had already been naked when Stiles walked in the door, laying in wait like predators at a watering hole. He suspected that he'd been ambushed—there'd definitely been some pouncing as they'd stripped him in record time and hustled him back to the bedroom without so much as a _happy birthday, now you're legal, bend over_ to show for it. He was pretty sure his shirt had come off in two pieces. 

Laura laughed again and leaned forward to kiss her brother, lips sliding together in a messy battle. It was, always, hot, but from his angle he could barely see. Her breasts ended up shoved in Stiles' face, the dark trail of hair leading down to her cunt close enough to trace with his fingertips, almost with his tongue. However, neither of them were a match for the bright pink silicone cock that hung from a harness around her hips. Breasts and pussy and miles of bare skin, Stiles had seen before. The dick, though—that was definitely new. 

While Laura was distracted, he used his legs to slide down the bed, until the shaft of the toy rubbed along his cheek. Up close, it was obvious that someone had made some effort toward realism. He could make out veins and skin folds, but it was all done in the same blinding pink that Laura would probably dip-dye Derek in if he wouldn't have killed her for it.

"Hey, so is this my gift?" Stiles asked, not expecting a reply. He bumped the dick with his chin, tonguing it at the base. Unsurprisingly, it tasted like plastic.

What _was_ surprising was that Laura pulled away from Derek, lifting up so they could look between them, where Stiles was only about three inches from eating her out. They had the exact same hungry expression, made even more obvious by their shared coloring, all dark hair and wicked eyes with kiss-bitten lips and, _God_ , he was in way too deep. 

"'Fraid not," Laura cheerfully corrected. Using Derek as a brace, she sat up, sliding until her cunt was right over Stiles' mouth. Her hips rocked demandingly. "You got that damned video game and the apartment key for starts. This is _my_ gift to me." 

Since she would just sit on him until he gave in, Stiles dragged his tongue across her pussy. She was already wet, tasting like herself and a little bit of what was probably Derek and plastic from the dildo. "Are you sure?" he asked, nibbling the inside of her thigh to make her jerk in surprise. "Because this really looks like it's mine. I could _do things_ with this."

Derek laughed, a low, soft rumble that _did things_ to Stiles' stomach, things that had been illegal twenty four hours before and couldn't be replicated with a piece of pink hardware. The callused soles of his feet dragged across Stiles ribs, _just_ scratchy enough to not tickle. "What about what _she's_ going to do with it?" 

When he looked up, Stiles was treated to a perfect view of Derek's dick and the underside of Laura's breasts. They were both _unreal_. He couldn't figure out exactly what he'd done to hit the incestuous jackpot, but he wanted to just so he could make sure to never screw it up. Holding their eyes, he dragged his tongue up along the silicone dick again. "Looking forward to it."

There was a slight crinkle around Derek's eyes that said he was laughing on the inside, which wasn't as good as on the outside, but hey, Stiles would take what he could get. He patted his sister's hip, bumping her over. "Come on, let him up."

"No, don't let me up, I like it here." Wrapping his lips around the cock—he was never going to get the taste of plastic out of his mouth—Stiles bobbed his head down. It wasn't anything like taking Derek's dick. Too hard, too cold, nothing he'd want to suck for fun. It did the job though. Laura's eyes went that odd, not-quite-real color they did sometimes, and her breath caught in a little hiccup. She pulled away, leaving Stiles' mouth uncomfortably empty. Then she made it worse by kneeing him in the side.

"Up on your knees, come on, hup hup hup," she ordered, giving his chest a smack for added measure.

"Bossy," Stiles grumbled, rolling over obediently. Derek grabbed his shoulders, pulling him nearly upright, and that would have gotten a complaint too if it hadn't come with attached kisses. Stiles groaned and let Derek take his weight, leaning into Derek's mouth like it was a lifeline. Derek kissed like the world would end if he let go, never rushed but always, always intense, full of the scrape of stubble and uncertain noises that could almost be called whimpers. It melted Stiles' brain to goo, while simultaneously sending a shot of arousal straight down to his half-hard dick.

Laura plastered herself along his back, chin on his shoulder and breasts pressed between his shoulder blades, cock a hard line against his hip. Her hands slide along his sides, his hips and down his legs, then back up again. He could feel the scratch of her nails, which he was pretty sure she sharpened from the way she left claw marks on him sometimes. This time she was nearly gentle, one hand sliding around to cradle his cock, cradling him. 

When Stiles had to choose between air and Derek's mouth, it took him a second to make the _breathe_ decision. It was a close call; the rational part of his brain was all for suffocating himself on Derek's tongue. It took his lungs kicking up a fuss for the point to be made. He pulled away the fraction of an inch required to stay conscious, eyes locked on the shine of spit on Derek's lips. "So," he asked breathlessly, "what's the plan?" 

Derek's hands followed the same lines Laura had, bigger but just the same as they lingered over Stiles' sides. They _liked_ that spot; there'd been a couple of very difficult to explain hickeys recently. If it hadn't been damned hot, Stiles might have complained. "How do you feel about being in the middle?" Derek asked, lips brushing over Stiles'. 

Just in case Stiles didn't get the question, Laura rolled her hips, nudging the dildo into his ass. He ground back instinctively, realizing about a second late that she wouldn't feel it the way Derek would have. His grand talents were useless against Laura's silicone superpower. 

"Whatd'ya say, birthday boy?" she purred in his ear. 

"I—" Stiles' voice hiccupped when the fake cock caught in his crack and _holy shit_ , he wished he'd thought to lube up earlier, because he kind of wanted it _now_. "Sounds good."

Weak finish, but Laura didn't take that as discouragement. She held out her hand, and Derek slapped the tube of lube into it. _Where the hell had that come from?_ Stiles wondered, arching his back as Laura ground into him some more. They were _sex magicians_. Nothing so hot could be natural. 

Blankets rumpled as Derek scooted back so Stiles could fall forward and brace himself on the bed. His fingers stayed twined around Stiles', though, forehead tight with a worry that Stiles was going to get to the bottom of one day. There wasn't much that Stiles hated, but he hated that line that appeared between Derek's eyebrows, and he hated whoever had made him skittish and quick to drop _everything_ even when Stiles said he was fine. 

"I'm okay," Stiles promised, kissing Derek's jaw as Laura slipped one slick finger into him. It wasn't anything, just a little pressure, nothing he hadn't done to himself last time he'd jacked off thinking about _this_. He kissed Derek again, spreading his knees a little more so Laura could maybe get the hint and move faster. "Come on, smile for me. You look like you're going die, and FYI, I don't do necrophilia." 

Derek snorted, but some of the tension left him. His fingers in Stiles' loosened. "Sure you don't," he said, smiling a little. "I'll keep you away from the morgue anyway." 

"Good mo— _ove_ ," Stiles groaned as Laura finally pressed in a second finger, twisting and hooking them. There was a little stretching, but it was _good_ , so fucking good. He didn't realize his eyes had closed until Derek's cheek scraped his. 

"Doing okay?" Laura asked, as if she cared when she was working her fingers in his ass like she couldn't wait to fuck it. Probably she couldn't. Laura was Laura was Laura. 

Derek's stubble rasped against his skin, no doubt leaving a wicked burn as he nodded. Every little movement was like being struck by a tiny bolt of lightning. Sweat trickled down his back. Everything had achieved that fuzzy, warm glow that came before really, really good sex. He couldn't think, but he really didn't want to. "Yeah—yeah, I'm good. Dandy. Peachy keen. Groovy. Right as—"

The fingers in his ass _twisted_ , sharp and cruel and _sogood_ before she pulled out. Stiles felt a wounded noise catch in his chest at the sudden loss. "Oh yeah, you're ready," she said, voice brimming with satisfaction. "Bro?"

"On it." The heat of Derek's skin vanished, and that was just one blow too many. Stiles opened his eyes to see Derek sliding away. He whimpered and reached for him, stopped only by Laura's hand on his shoulder. 

Luckily, Derek didn't go far. He just had to roll over and get up on his knees. His cock had gone a little soft, but Stiles mouth still watered at the sight of it. He dropped his head, tonguing the foreskin. Then Laura's dildo pressed against his ass, the head just catching. Stiles groaned, pushing back and trying to get his lips around Derek's dick at the same time. 

"Shhh, hold on." Broad palms gripped his shoulders, held him up while Laura stretched him out. She took her sweet time about it, working him open in short, teasing thrusts that were more maddening than Derek at his worst. The burn was just enough without actually being what he _wanted_. When he tried to push back, she backed off and went back to teasing with the tip. She wasn't even touching his dick, but he thought it might actually explode. 

He groaned and knocked his head back to glare at whichever Hale happened to be handy. Which ended up being Derek, of course, who was watching him with that stupid soft expression that was impossible to be mad at. "Damn—you—both—" 

"Oh, you wanted harder?" Laura asked in his ear, voice dangerously close to cackling. The points of her nails dug into his hips. "Why didn't you _say_ so?"

Before he could get the brain cells together, she slammed the rest of the way in. Stiles' arms gave out, and only Derek managed to keep him up. Words bubbled up as he tried to curse her, to curse them _both_ , but all he could get out was an incomprehensible groan. He dropped his head, pressing it against Derek's impossibly muscular chest. His neck ached. Every time Laura moved, it was like hitting his head against a wall. She fucked like she did everything—with enthusiasm and determination. 

Fortunately, the wall in question had a dick. Stiles might have been gone, but he was never too gone for that. 

He managed to get one elbow locked enough to hold himself up as he lowered his head. Derek was back in full form from watching. Stiles flicked his tongue along the tip, then just underneath the head. Derek finally got with the program, wrapping his hand around his cock to hold it steady. Slightly salty skin slid along Stiles tongue as he wrapped his lips around Derek's cock. He took in as much as he could, tongue flat against the shaft. Deep-throating wasn't a talent he'd mastered yet— _yet_ —and he wasn't going to try when Laura was doing everything she could to scramble his brains like eggs. Even staying upright was kind of a challenge. 

His head bobbed, working at an odd pace with Laura screwing up his balance and concentration. The slap of skin and the slick, dirty sound of Laura's cock in his ass screwed with his focus. There were a dozen tricks he knew and couldn't think of, ideas scattering every time he moved. Derek seemed to like it anyway, groaning wordlessly just at the edge of Stiles' hearing. His fingers curled around the back of Stiles neck, not pushing, not demanding, just _there_ in a way that made Stiles _ache_. 

Laura leaned forward, breasts a slide of hot skin on skin against his back as her hand wrapped around his dick. The angle shifted, turned deeper. Stiles' vision turned white. He pulled off Derek's dick with a gasp for air. A couple of jerks of Laura's hand and that was it. He shuddered, come splashing across his stomach and the dark blue comforter.

Distantly, he felt Laura pull out of him, felt that unhappy emptiness when there was nothing left to fill him up. Gentle hands rolled him over on his side while he was still too loose-limbed and lazy to do it himself, two sets of lips drawing kisses over his shoulders and chest, fingertips and palms. There was the sound of Velcro coming undone, and then the bed shifted. Stiles opened his eyes to see Laura lower herself onto Derek. 

They were beautiful as they rocked against each other, Derek's hands mostly a suggestion of support as Laura rode him hard and fast. Stiles watched, taking it in, orgasm still buzzing under his skin. There was a sort of fluidness in how they moved. He loved watching it, seeing them when they weren't paying attention to _him_. Amazing as it was being in the middle, there was nothing quite like the sidelines.

It didn't take long before Laura's moans rose to fever levels. Her whole body arched, teeth sinking into Derek's throat as her hips worked him, and he finally cried out too. They curled into each other and then slowly toppled, not even bothering to pull apart. 

Stiles worked enough of the laziness out to squirm his way over and between. He didn't give up until Derek's legs were between his and Laura's nose in his cheek. She smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth, while Derek nibbled lazily at the nape of his neck. 

"Best. Gift. Ever," Stiles decided, squirming so he could wedge in closer. "That was definitely part of my gift." 

A trick of the light caught Laura's eyes, made them seem bloody red for a split second. She grinned, nails scratching lightly down his side. "Wait until you see the _rest_ of it."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Totally Innocent](https://archiveofourown.org/works/803078) by [Jinxy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinxy/pseuds/Jinxy)




End file.
